


Afterdeath

by ninusch



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Martinski, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninusch/pseuds/ninusch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's much harder to bring someone back from death than anticipated and it may change things for ever ... post-Alpha Pact episode. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterdeath

„NOW!!! UP, Pull them up, QUICK!“ Deatons voice lost its usual serenity, as he pulled the unmoving body of Scott to the surface.

Lydia reacted immediately, somehow managing to pull Stiles motionless, extremely heavy body above the waterline. He was pale, white and he was not breathing.   
His lips were blue. Lydia started to feel a notch of panic tighten in her chest.   
“Wake up, Stiles! Come back, wake up, come on, please!!” she begged as she shook him.  
Next to her she could hear Isaac shouting similar things and almost simultaneously both – Alison and Scott – opened their eyes, heavily sucking in the air, shaking from the ice water.  
Isaac laughed. Deaton smiled.

Stiles was still motionless.   
Not breathing.

She shook him harder, tears were clouding her eyes.  
“STILES!!! STILES, please don’t you do this to me, come on. Please. Please?”  
The harder she shook, he harder his lifeless head was woobling around. Her voice broke and all she could was whisper: “ _Wakeupwakeupeakeupeakeupeakeupeakeupwakeupwakeup_.”  
She could make out voices in the background, questions, shouts.  
A thought was forming in her head: Deaton was wrong. _I was the wrong person. I cannot bring him back. I killed him._

She remembered the kiss earlier. Only hours, although it felt like days.   
All the talk, all the little things came rushing back to her memory, since she could remember this dorky guy was always going on her nerves, with his jumpiness, his attempts to impress her, caring about her, knowing her.   
He was there, her whole life in the background, stepping up the last year. She realized that there were so many things that still didn’t fit into place, which she had to ask. Him.  
She was a banshee, for Gods sake. How should she find out what that meant for her, without Stiles? How should they face the Darach, and Ducalion and all the others without Stiles?  
  
 _NO!_   
She was going to let the corpses pile up above her and particularly not Stiles.   
Never Stiles! Banshee back and forth, this time she would save a life instead of witnessing it being taken. “STILES!”   
She jumped into the bath tub, fisting her hands into his wet collar, slapping, scratching, biting, kissing him.  Then she leaned in, breathing air into his ice blue lips.  
“You don’t die on me, do you hear me. Don’t you die on me!  Don’t you dare die on me, you little pain in the ass!”  
  
And then, when she just wanted to lean in again – she brought him back once, made him holding his breath, so she could do the reverse, too, couldn’t she? – he cramped, ripping his eyes open, gasping and trying to fighting off whatever it was that was sitting on him.   
His hand shoot out, punching her hard against the jaw.   
She crushed against the sharp edge of the tub, tears flooding her eyes from the pain and the shock and the happiness.  
She brought him back. Stiles was back. She brought him back. Alone, her alone. No dead body, no death.  
Just life, this time.  
  
Deaton and Isaac helped Stiles out of the tub, and the moment his feet touch the ground he slumped forward vomiting on the ground, continuing gagging till there was nothing left he could let go. Dripping wet Lydia climbed out as well, rushing to his side.  
He flinched away. “Don’t.”  
“Stiles, it’s okay. It worked. It’s fine. Everything will be okay.” She said it as much for him as for herself. Now there was hope.  
For her not being a freak that brings only death with her. For him finding their parents unharmed. For them bringing this madness to an end.  
  
Then, he slapped away her hand, crawling back on all feet, sobbing heavily: “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no …. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t. touch. Me.”  
Lydias smile weaken. She felt the bruise forming alongside her jaw where he had hit her.  
“Stiles…?”  
He sat crouched in an corner of the room, hiding his face in his hands and crying grossily.  
 _“Don’t touch me.”_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being back at School was weird. It put everything that happened into perspective, and she wondered what it was like for her schoolmates who had absolutely no idea that in the last 72 hours she was almost strangled to death, found out that she was a supernatural creature, fought with werewolves against werewolves AND an evil druid, in the course of this fight witnessed her best friend being sacrificed while sacrificing another friend herself.

_What the fuck happened to me? What the actual fuck?_

That was when she saw him driving on the school parking lot, his hands clenched around the wheel of the familiar jeep. When he stopped the engine he leaned his forehead against it, before he excited the car.  
His face was still pale and he had dark shadows under his eyes. But it was his gaze that worried her most, haunted and helpless. He looked as if he still had a panic attack, minus the shaking and the heavy breathing, but the fear was still omnipresent.  
He wasn’t smiling anymore, wasn’t talking and whenever he did his usual sarcasm was like a needle punched deep into ones skin. He had cried when they found his father and the other still alive and unharmed. After this, he seemed to become unaware of what was going on around him.  
Scott told her that he had asked Deaton about Stiles. His suggestion, that this was an aftereffect of the sacrifice, the “darkness” that would linger. But the vet was also worried because Stiles been longer on the other side than the other two. That he was more affected.

Lydia raised from the step of the school’s main entrance, when he walked towards her.  
“Hey Stiles, you look …”  
He passed her without acknowledgement.  
“… like you’re going to ignore me?”  
That defiantly never happened before.

“Stiles.”, she called after him, ignoring the curios look of the people around her. “Stiles, wait!”, she pulled him back by the elbow and had to gulp when he looked into her eyes and there was defiantly some unspoken thing lingering.  
“Stiles, how are you?”  
“Why do you care?”  
“Well … I do. What is going on with you, is father okay?”  
“’s fine.” He shifted in his feet, making clear that he just didn’t wanted to talk to her.  
“Enough now, please just tell me what is going on with you. Why don’t you want to talk to me?”  
He stared at her: “I just want you to leave me alone. Please, Lydia … just, … just go back being the Queen Bee of Beacon Hills and worry about your hair, and shoes and which guy to fuck in the janitors room, okay? Leave me alone.”  
She was speechless.   
  
“Stiles, this not you speaking. You wouldn’t say these things to me …”  
“Well maybe it’s time someone says this things to you, Lydia, because honestly … your selfishness, your arrogance, I … you’re cold, you’re cruel … Your are just a sad, little girl who use other people to make her own life more bearable. I’m done with that!”  
“What do you want me to do? Do you want to make me cry?”, she whispered.  
“I don’t care anymore if you cry or not Lydia … Just leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. You have already ruined so much.”  
He turned to go when anger boiled up inside her. “I saved you! I pulled you back!”

“YES!” she screamed at her, “And I wish you didn’t.”   
He stepped closer to her, fixing her eyes on his cold stare: “You know what I saw? Everyone. Everyone, who died. All the victims. Boyd. Erica. Tara. Heather. They were waiting for me and for once there was no pain, no fear, no anything.”  
Suddenly his face softened a bit: “I saw my mother. She was smiling, she was waiting for me to be with her again, she spread her arms to welcome me and I haven’t seen her in such a long time and I just wanted to be with her, because I cannot bear being here anymore.   
And then I saw you.   
Sitting with me in the tub, and you smiled and laughed and said something like it would be ok. And all I wanted to do was punch you in the face because you took her from me. She was taken, again. And this time, it is your fault. So don’t. talk. To me.”

He left her dumfounded in the middle of the hall. The bell came and went and as soon as the last door closed behind the students, she allowed herself to cry.  
She skipped the morning classes, but then something as trivial as her hungry stomach brought her out of her hiding-place into the cafeteria. She saw him sitting with Scott and Alison and Isaac, crouched together, picking his food. A little bit on the side-line.  
She gripped her tablet harder as Allison started to wave at her: “Lydia, here.”  
Stiles looked up and lifted an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

Lydia raised up to her full height and elegantly walked pass their table and sat down at the table with the rest of the lacrosse team.

_Fine,_ she thought _. Enough with the freakshow. The Return of Lydia Martin it shall be._

But when she picked her salad, the taste turned into nothingness in her mouth and for a moment – just for a moment thou – a clump was filling her throat.

**Author's Note:**

> WHY DID I DO THIS I DON’T KNOW SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE THEY KISSED EVERYTHING SHOULD BE HAPPY AND UNICORNS AND RAINBOWS BUT I WRITE ANGSTY ONESHOTS WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??????


End file.
